


You're Biting Me Crazy

by Mx_Axolotl



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Biting, Fluff and Crack, Hannibal has a kink, M/M, Mentions of Murder and Cannibalism, Murder Husbands, Post-Canon, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Will discovers it, mentions of sex (more implied no detail)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mx_Axolotl/pseuds/Mx_Axolotl
Summary: Of all the kinks, in all their well earned time together, Will never thought one of Hannibal's could simultaneously be a turn on and ridiculously adorable.





	You're Biting Me Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> This evolved from a picture a friend posted on twitter, unrelated to Hannibal, & my mind instantly went to Hannigram. Thank you, murdergatsby, for the inspiration & for joining me in being unable to function through the laughter of the imagery I pitched. Also thanks to FrostyLee & onlythosethings for encouraging me with your endorsement of the idea as well.<3
> 
> The title is a play on "you're driving me crazy" if no one could guess.... heh... I thought it was cute. 
> 
> (I intended this to be more a crack fic than anything but then I was told it was also fluff & how could I deny expanding on that portion as well? Enjoy!)

            After the fall and after the healing, Will’s mind shifted from mostly pragmatic thoughts – supplies, wound care, contingency plans – to something a little more indulgent. Where they might settle after the little cabin serving as their hideout had fulfilled their needs. Maybe somewhere warm, another coast on another continent. Would they be able to walk freely wherever they pleased? Make new, though few, acquaintances that may or may not provide future hunts for them depending on their attitude…

            That was another thing, the killing and resulting charcuterie. It didn’t faze Will too deeply that his stance had shifted from ‘if’ to ‘when’. Circumstances being as they were and the situation becoming what it was, he could have chuckled at how inevitable it all had honestly been. He loved every fiber of Hannibal’s being, which included the man and the monster. It reflected perfectly his own and he had run out of mileage in denying it’s existence. Will hadn’t been lying when he told Hannibal it was beautiful.

            So the two recovered, packed up what meager belongings they had acquired in the dash from seaside to outlier town to cabin in the woods, and left.

            They ended up stopping near to where he had carved out an imposter like life for himself with Molly and Walter, crossing the northern border into Canada without much fuss. That evening, the natural progression of their mutual feelings culminated in a surge of passion that very much echoed their dynamics since that fateful first meeting. Breathless kisses and restless hands gave way to curious and lighthearted explorations, testing, tasting and worshipping the flesh and sounds one could draw from the other. Rapid and hard fucking drifted into slow and careful love making, leaving both men panting and wholly sated – only to repeat everything or something specific, or some combination thereof, again some hours later.

            Will reveled in the realization that this _could_ happen now. They weren’t tied down by anything more than their whims. No students, no patients, no cases, no metaphorical or literal game of mental chess in a minefield of mortality. Even though they weren’t at their destination, merely enjoying a layover, the ex-profiler couldn’t help feel like they had all the time in the world.

            Will was happy that, when they finally did get to their destination – temporary, as it would be the first of many – the feeling hadn’t diminished in the slightest. It had only smoothed out to being more domestic than newlywed in nature but no less ardent or… creative.

            Hannibal never disappointed on that end, if his pre-Dragon Kill proclivities were anything to go by. However, the most astonishing and profoundly enjoyable avenues of creativity displayed also tended to be the tamest; at least in Will’s opinion. While the art of being bound with silky rope in the most inventive poses had been invigorating, Will cherished the attention Hannibal lavished on his work roughened and calloused hands. Bestowing the gentlest kisses to each digit and each inch of palm as if they were the hands that had painted or sculpted the art Hannibal so loved to rhapsodize about. Their foray into sensory exploration, particularly the ones with certain flower types and a blindfold, always had Will’s heart racing but even more, Will found himself fond lover’s keenness of… biting. Teeth. He knew Hannibal loved anything to do with his mouth, just as Will loved his, but the Lithuanian’s fascination with his own on Will’s skin tended to make an appearance no matter their sexual mood.

            Hannibal had a biting kink.

            Will couldn’t blame him. He had the perfect teeth for the job; the canines were superbly animalistic, sloping into a dangerous looking point. The top, front ones only slightly set back that they ideally held whatever the canines would dig into, leaving no room to slip away. Not to mention, and probably unrelated to the mechanics of the kink, Hannibal’s mildly crooked bottom teeth were just plain endearing to Will.

            Sometimes Hannibal would put pressure behind the bite, making indents that would stick around for a day or two, or drawing blood that would have both of them moaning and quickening their love making. Sometimes Hannibal would nip and drag the points of them across Will’s most sensitive spots until his lover was either writhing madly or made a mess of himself – of which the former psychiatrist would happily lick up. Sometimes still, Hannibal would just rest his teeth against the curve of Will’s shoulder, the jut of his collarbone, his bobbing Adam’s apple, or the pulse point of his wrist and lave his tongue to savor the mix of sweat and Will’s own unique taste.

            It was one of Will’s Top Ten on their Option’s List.

            So when it began making appearances out of the bedroom, Will had to move it to the venerated Top Five.

            Just like everything else Hannibal had ever done to him, the inclusion of the kink into everyday life could be disguised as any other number of quirks their relationship had amassed. When they would sit out on the deck chairs the small patio of their first house allowed, watching the sunset over the glittering beach of their backyard, and Hannibal would nose at Will’s neck, peppering it with feather light kisses, it didn’t seem out of place to occasionally feel a sweep of smooth enamel. One time, after Will had brought home their first stray and the pup’s joy at having a warm and safe place as well as a full belly was so contagious, it had morphed into the two men rolling around on the floor, play wrestling. Their newest family member, Ibérico, for her wiry, midnight colored coat, yapping and huffing at them all the while. Although they were careful of elbows and knees, laughing and giddy, Will felt the brush of fangs over a few planes of his exposed flesh as well as the tug and shake when Hannibal caught a bit of his shirt in his mouth.

            By the time those incidents became more straightforward – pressing a dangerous grin to the back of Will’s bloody knuckles after a particularly satisfying hunt, incisors circling the swell of bone there before leaving – Will had just accepted the fact anew. Hannibal _really_ had a biting kink.

            What Will hadn’t accounted for, was the trajectory that simple fact would eventually take. As if biting could _become_ anything _more_ than it already was, right? Yet, evolve it did.

            As Hannibal grew more confident with Will’s acceptance and allowance of his love for his teeth on his lover and noted the way Will would purposefully display Hannibal’s favorite areas in the hopes of inciting his fetish, the frequency of love bites and the like increased to at least once a day. Will actually found himself anticipating the occurrence and wouldn’t count his day as done until he got one at some point. In the morning when he would be sipping coffee, watching their pack of three run about in the early sunlight, Hannibal would fit snuggly to his back and drag a canine from behind his ear, follow the tendon in Will’s neck down to where it met with his shoulder, peeking out from the stretched collar of his sleep shirt, only to return up the same path. Will would shiver and Hannibal would smile, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lover’s mouth with a quiet, “Good morning.” The afternoon ones came in a variety of forms, from nips as playful as what he received from the dogs, to possessive and promise laced bites that would be fulfilled right then and there or when the sun retreated.

            He’d thought that was the extent of the variety, that the night versions were obvious and not in need of classification. When Will woke at 2 am, for whatever reason it had been be it for water or a piss, he had found out that there might be one more variation, after all.

            Hannibal falling asleep somehow in mid-bite to some part of Will’s anatomy.

So far always above the covers and rather docile in nature, more drool than nibble, thank god. He didn’t want to experience what it would be like to wake, to startle more like, with his cock resting between those teeth… the meat of his arm or shoulder, or even one time the lobe of his ear, were fine offerings by him. At first, Will summed it up to Hannibal trying to instigate something more sensual but being so exhausted from that day’s rather robust kill and butchering – they weren’t getting any younger, after all – that he’d just nodded off. He’d done it plenty of times by the fireplace as they relaxed, book resting on his chest or head lolling onto Will’s shoulder. But then it begun to be a regular phenomenon Will would wake to during the wee small hours of the morning.

            He never broached the discovery with Hannibal, though he could sense his lover’s instinctual knowing that Will was keeping something from him and was trying not to chomp at the bit to ask. His restraint only lasted a week but it was the thought that counted.

            “You have something on your mind.” He mentioned one evening as they were relaxing on the couch in their third house – this one in the French countryside.

            “That’s vague. When _don’t_ I?” Will chuckled, scratching behind Almond’s floppy ears and earning the highest of dog praise: the presentation of belly with a bouncing back leg.

            Hannibal’s sigh sounded put upon as he replaced the ribbon he used as a bookmark and set the novel aside. “I can only guess it is something that happens when I’m not consciously aware because otherwise I would have pinpointed it by now.”

            Will merely twitched his lips in a quick grin, biting back the ear-to-ear smile of obvious amusement that wanted to burst out. Hannibal sighed again.

            “Something during the night, then. When we are asleep?” He tried, adjusting how he sat so he was facing Will more, the foot he had under Will’s thigh wiggling as if to prod a hint from his lover. He irked him to be left in the dark. “I know I’m not snoring.”

            “Oh—you _do_ snore, don’t act so above _snoring_ , Hannibal.” The brunet snorted, taking in his partner’s narrowing eyes. “But no, this particular thing isn’t that.”

            “You _will_ tell me, Will. One way or another.” The cannibal promised, those prominent canines making a point of the statement and sending a shiver down Will’s spine. Almond huffed his own sound of annoyance and hopped off his owner’s lap, sensing the mood of the evening shifting just like the rest of the pack did. They moved to the nest of beds piled in the corner and thoroughly ignored their humans.

            _If only he realized he hit the nail on the head with that smirk_ , Will thought, the last coherent one of the day before Hannibal leapt at him and those teeth undid him in the most delightful ways.

            Later that night, however, like clockwork, when Will blearily cracked open his eyes, he found himself the comforting morsel to Hannibal’s oral fixation. Biting his bottom lip, he glanced to the nightstand and reached for his phone while trying not to dislodge or disturb the other man. Successful, he dimmed the light of the screen, opened the camera feature and turned off the flash, hoping that the adjustment for ambient light would be enough to capture the moment: a tousled hair Hannibal Lecter, his mouth latched onto Will’s shoulder like an adorable cross between a kitten and lamprey, right above an artful cluster of hickeys those same teeth and lips had put along his collarbone. Carefully putting his phone back, Will kissed Hannibal’s forehead, smoothing his lips there before letting the tip of his own canine tooth lightly graze his lover’s skin.

Hannibal’s full body tremble and the feel of the teeth at his shoulder pressing in s bite before relaxing back to a gentle hold, made Will smile contentedly as he closed his eyes once again.    


End file.
